Speak What We Feel: Not What We Ought to Say

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Harper Collins, 2009 M10 13 - 176 páginas

Four Unexpected Prophets Who Shine Light into the Darkness

 

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Crítica de los usuarios  - tjsjohanna - LibraryThing

Interesting insights, but I'm skeptical of critics who examine authors' works and then pretend to some insight into their lives. That's a risky business. Leer comentario completo

Speak what we feel (not what we ought to say): reflections on literature and faith

Crítica de los usuarios  - Not Available - Book Verdict

Spiritual writer, novelist, and Presbyterian minister Buechner (The Magnificent Defeat) considers four authors and the works that, in his view, each wrote in his own blood about the darkness of life ... Leer comentario completo

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Página 31 - THE world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things...
Página 34 - ... kingdom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding Stirred for a bird, — the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
Página 143 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Página 28 - I kissed the rod, Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, cheer.
Página 40 - MY own heart let me more have pity on ; let Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, Charitable ; not live this tormented mind With this tormented mind tormenting yet. I cast for comfort I can no more get By groping round my comfortless, than blind Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet. Soul, self; come, poor Jackself...
Página 153 - And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never!
Página 27 - NOT, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man In me or, most weary, cry / can no more. I can ; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
Página 21 - I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me; Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse. Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see The lost are like this, and their scourge to be As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.
Página 72 - ... along, talking and singing and laughing. But somehow I couldn't seem to strike no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind.

Acerca del autor (2009)

Frederick Buechner, author of more than thirty works of fiction and nonfiction, is an ordained Presbyterian minister. He has been a finalist for both the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award and was honored by the American Academy of Arts and Letters. His most recent work is Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith.

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